


i know that sweet warm taste

by strawberry_sky



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Gen, oh you thought i was done with the legendary heroes now that c1's over? no :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_sky/pseuds/strawberry_sky
Summary: five times the party that would come to be known as the Legendary Heroes stood and fought, and the one time they ran
Relationships: Alanis & Thiala & Ulfgar Trueaxe, Alanis/Thiala (Not Another D&D Podcast)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 32





	i know that sweet warm taste

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna wait til i wrote all 6 chapters to post the first one but uhhh fuck that, i miss naddpod and i'll get to the rest eventually <3

Ulfgar Trueaxe knows he’s going to be a hero. 

He’s always known this. It runs in his family, his blood. It runs in all the dwarves of Irondeep, but it runs in the Trueaxes in particular. He has just left Irondeep, he has just gone out into the world to make his own way and prove himself, and he can’t do much now, but he will grow, and he will become stronger, and he will make his people proud. By his blade and his blood, he will make them proud. 

Right now, though, he’s not making anyone proud. Right now he’s just a dwarf with an axe strapped to his back and a mug of ale in his hand, sitting alone at the bar of a tavern in a tiny fishing town. It’s good ale, though. 

In the corner, a small group of people in dark cloaks seem to be having a tense discussion over several untouched mugs. At a table near the window, a young woman with a long blonde braid down her back is wearing an out-of-style but well-cared-for suit of armor. Her chin is resting in her hand, and she’s staring pensively out the window, pen forgotten in her hand and book open on the table in front of her. 

Ulfgar drains the rest of his ale. “Another, if you don’t mind,” he says with a big grin to the young half-orc woman behind the bar. 

“You fucking _lied_ to me!” The gruff, furious voice turns every head in the tavern, Ulfgar’s included. One figure has stood up from the group in the corner and is backing away slowly, hands up defensively. The hood of her cloak has fallen back and he can see that she’s an elf, with dark skin and a cloud of curly hair. Standing to face her is a tall human in leather armor, with a shaved head and a huge scar across his face. The rest of the humans in the group get up to stand behind him, hands already reaching for weapons.

"Now, hold on, I didn't _lie_ to you," the elf says, casting a quick glance over her shoulder as the bar goes quiet. "Manipulated the truth a little? Maybe." 

The human slams his fist down on the table, and the elf flinches, the narrow fingers of her right hand flying to the leather band wrapped around her left wrist as she mutters something under her breath and a faint magical aura flickers around her. 

The human’s hand shoots out and grabs the elf by the front of her tunic, almost lifting her off the ground. “Don’t cast your fucking spells on me, you tricky bitch,” he spits.

“Oh, that’s it,” Ulfgar mutters, grabbing the handle of his axe and getting to his feet. He doesn’t know what’s going on here, but a fight isn’t going to go down without Ulfgar Trueaxe involved. He’s about to stride across the room and insert himself into this situation, but someone else gets there first. 

“Put her down,” says the human girl with the blonde hair and the suit of armor, her voice calm but firm, one hand up in a placating gesture while the other rests on the hilt of her sword. Her mug and her book both sit forgotten at the table behind her. 

The elf glances over at the girl, surprised. “Thanks, but I’m good,” she says.

“Are you?” says the blonde girl lightly, not taking her eyes off the human who’s still holding the front of the elf’s tunic. 

“Fuck out of here, kid,” snarls the human. Behind him, the other men at the table are getting to their feet, hands going to the hilts of swords. “This doesn’t concern you.” 

“Does it concern _me_?” Ulfgar steps up on the human’s other side, twirling his axe in his hand. 

“I think _both_ of you should take a _walk_ ,” says the human, shooting furious glares at first Ulfgar, then the girl in armor, as the rest of the black-cloaked men step up to stand right behind their leader. 

The elf rolls her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters, and then slams her hands forward, palms flat, yelling a word in some ancient and arcane language. A blast of power sweeps out from her, sending the leader and two of his men flying back and crashing against the wall. The elf woman drops into a low crouch and immediately backs up, taking cover behind Ulfgar’s broad form. 

Ulfgar glances over his shoulder. “Thought you didn’t need help?” he says with a grin. 

“I’m sorry, did you _see_ that fucking beautiful _Thunderwave_ ?” she says indignantly, rifling through the pockets of her coat and pulling out loose feathers, pieces of paper, a spool of silver string. “I don’t need anyone’s help. But if a tough guy with actual _armor_ wants to stand in front of me, I’d _prefer_ not to get stabbed.” 

“Focus up,” says the other woman’s voice, sharply, as she brings her sword up just in time to knock aside a rapier aimed at her face. Ulfgar swings past her, sinking his axe into the stomach of her attacker. Already there’s fire in his veins and laughter on his lips as he sinks the man with a well-placed blow and then swings around, aiming right for the kneecaps of another as the wizard flings a bolt of fire over his head and the blonde woman calls down a radiant beam from the ceiling. 

Ulfgar’s been in fights before--a few. He’s certainly been in countless wrestling matches--he’s one of Irondeep’s champions, there are _books_ written about him, but _this_ ? A real battle, with lives on the line, including his own? _This_ is what being _alive_ feels like. And he does feel alive, even as a dagger darts around his armor and gets him right in the ribs, sending him staggering back with a grunt of pain. He tastes blood in his mouth, feels it in his head, his vision going slightly blurry--

A hand catches him, right in the small of his back, and he feels a warm shock of energy, feels the wound in his side knit itself up. He glances back to see the blonde woman, one hand on his back, the other sweeping her hair out of her eyes. “You good?” she asks him, not taking her eyes off their attackers. 

“Oh, I _like_ you,” says Ulfgar with a grin, and throws himself forward into the fight again. He glances to his left, sets the heel of his foot into the seat of a chair and leaps into the air to bring the butt of his axe down right in the center of the skull of the ringleader of the thugs with a sickening _crack_. He thinks it’s non-lethal damage, but frankly, he doesn’t really care, as the leader drops to the ground. 

The other men are backing up, weapons still in their hands but on the defensive, now. Ulfgar adjusts his grip on his axe and smiles.

“Anybody want more?” says the elf wizard from behind him. A ball of fire is glittering in her palm. Beside her, the human woman has one hand on her amulet as the other holds her sword. 

“HEY!” comes a booming voice from behind the bar. “YOU THREE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” 

The fighting stops, and everyone looks over. A brawny human man is standing behind the young half-orc, glaring at Ulfgar and the elf and blonde human and pointing at the door. 

“Us?” says Ulfgar, indignant. “We didn’t even start it!” 

“Yes, you did,” says the half-orc woman, her arms crossed.

“ _Out,_ ” says the bartender. 

“Come on,” says the blonde human. She throws one arm over Ulfgar’s shoulders, like they’ve known each other forever, and steers him toward the door. Her other arm is already around the elf’s shoulders, and together, they stumble out into the street. 

“Is everyone okay?” says the cleric in a very businesslike tone. “I still have spell slots.” 

“I’m good,” says the elf, although even Ulfgar can hear the lie in the tightness of her voice and the way she’s clutching her ribs on her left side. 

The human sighs, and reaches out a hand. “Here.” Golden light shines from her fingertips as she places her hand over the other woman’s. “Better?” 

The elf wizard nods. “Thank you. Both of you,” with a glance toward Ulfgar, who is inspecting his axe. There’s a respectable amount of blood on the blade. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Those guys were assholes,” says Ulfgar dismissively. Honestly he'd have started a fight for less. 

The wizard shrugs, considering. “Well, yeah, true. I kinda fell in with the wrong crowd. Keeps happening to me.” 

“I’m Thiala of Misthill,” says the blonde girl, brushing a spot of blood off her armor and holding out her hand for the wizard to shake. “And it was no trouble, really. I like to help where I can.” 

“And I’m Ulfgar Trueaxe,” says Ulfgar, holding out his own hand without bothering to wipe off the blood. “Son of Ragnar Trueaxe, the Grand Blade of the Mountain.” 

“I’m Alanis,” the elf says, shaking first Thiala’s hand, then Ulfgar’s. Her hands are small, but surprisingly strong and calloused. “And my surname is some complicated high-elf bullshit, so you can just call me Alanis.” She shoves her hands in her pockets and looks down at the cobblestones. “Sorry I, uh, got us kicked out of the only inn in town right before dark. If you want we can go find somewhere to camp, I don’t need to sleep, really, so I can keep watch--” 

Thiala waves her hand dismissively. “I have a plan. There’s a farmer who lives just outside of town, I healed his cow earlier today. He’ll at least let us sleep in his hayloft. Come on.” 

She starts walking down the road into the gathering twilight. Alanis makes eye contact with Ulfgar and shrugs, then runs a few steps to catch up with Thiala. “So you just...you just swept into town and started healing random cows?” 

“It had broken its ankle, what else would I do?” says Thiala, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I mean, I _guess_ ,” says Alanis, shaking her head a little as she falls into step beside the cleric. Ahead of them, the sun is setting, turning the sky to orange and purple and dark blue. The first few stars are coming out. 

Ulgar shoulders his axe and follows after them, a grin slowly growing on his face. 

They’re going to be the stuff of legend.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Younger" by the mountain goats  
> find me at drinkingdeadpeopletea.tumblr.com  
> i love naddpod <3


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